3Chapter 6-The Ballroom
I stood at the top of a beautiful and grand staircase, looking down at what seemed like thousands of faces looking at me expectantly. They were scattered the large hall and seemed to be waiting for my first mistake – I didn't trust any of them. I concentrated on gracefully walking down the stairs, my father helping me, and avoiding wiping my sweaty palms on my wonderful dress. I wore a beautiful royal blue evening dress: it was made of chiffon which fell to my knees with a royal blue belt and a flower made both from silk; the dress showed off my figure and fell to my knees; I wore heels in the same colour of my dress and my hair was in a bun, with a few strands left loose to frame my face. When I looked in the mirror I was shocked – before I could have been called pretty, beautiful at a stretch, but looking in the mirror I saw a stunning teenage girl.
"Thank you all for coming," I stopped me and began the short speech my mother had made me learn. "I am so glad you could all make it. Enjoy yourselves everyone and help yourself to the food." I scanned the faces, trying to spot anyone I could recognise. Properly recognise, not just know from hours spent with my mother looking at pictures and names. "It means a lot that you all came." As I stopped talking I received a thunderous applause from those gathered. I almost rolled my eyes at them. If it took four sentences to make them clap like that, I had no idea they would do if I did something worthy of applause. Would they crown me the queen of all rich people? I bit my lip to stop myself giggling at what I would do to my parents if were the queen. Even the littlest things amused me in my dreary life, and I needed those little things – I don't know how I would have got through my life without them.
I descended the rest of the stairs and let my father prod me towards a Lord, who I am sure my father would very much have loved me to be married off to when I reached sixteen. Not only would it get rid of me but also, it would give my father his much sought after connection to nobility. Lord Thorn wouldn't be above marrying me for the sake of it either, no respectable woman would marry the man and no parents, other than mine, would demand their daughter should marry him.
"Kalare! I hope you are well." Lord Thorn said in an unconvincing tone of fake concern. He kissed my hand as I tried not to shudder from his slimy hands on mine and his awful smell of sweat and dirt. "May I have this dance?" He asked. Without waiting for me to consent, (I would have accepted for I'd rather not have my mother yelling at me) he pulled me onto the dance floor. He was a terrible dancer and stepped on my toes several times during the waltz. By time the music had finished I felt sure my toes were broken and I hurriedly excused myself before he could insist on another dance.
"I am very sorry, my lord, but I must return to my seat – I am still not quite myself."
"What have I told you? Call me Nicholas but, I do not want you making yourself ill. I shall accompany you, Kalare." Lord Thorn said. My eyes widened at the thought of having to put up with him for the whole night, no one else would join me while he was around.
"No!" I cried, before realising how rude I sounded, "Thank you very much, my lo-Nicholas, but I don't want you to waste your night with me. I turned and hurried away, trying to lose him in the crowd. I hated balls and dinner parties, and anywhere you had to pretend that you were the loving daughter you should be to people who only cared about money and titles. I didn't love my parents at all. I lived under no false pretences - my parents never gave me any reason to believe they were even fond of me so I had no reason to hold any affection for the people who created me. To them I was nothing but a mistake and obstacle to their success, someone they had to keep so the neighbours wouldn't think badly of them. They weren't people I could love. I snapped out of my thoughts as Kyle came and joined me at the table I had sat at when I was satisfied Lord Thorn wouldn't find me.
"Hi Kalare." His gentle voice greeted me. I liked the way he talked: he talked using proper English but he didn't use the over the top proper accent that most other people I had met used. "How are you?"
"Very well thank you, how about you?" I replied, wishing I was brave enough to stop using the boring phrases my mother had drilled into me when I was young. I smiled when I realised that I had remembered something new, even if I would rather have had happy memories it was still progress.
"You don't need to be boring with me. I promise your mum won't find out. I'm no gossip." Kyle said, giving me a wink. My eyes widened – did Kyle know what my parents were like? Probably not, I realised. He wouldn't have used such a light hearted tone if he knew what they were really like and he called my mother "your mum". My heart sank. Kyle probably thought that my parents where the same self absorbed idiots that most of the other rich were – he thought they were full of themselves but they loved me.
"Oh."
"What do you say to escaping here and talking a walk around the garden, Kalare?" Kyle asked. "I know you don't like parties much and it is way too hot in here."
"I'm sorry I don't feel very well. I think I'll go talk to my mum." I hurried off towards my mother, wishing I could accept Kyle's offer. My parent had banned me from getting to close to any of the male neighbours my age. I think they were frightened of me falling in love, getting married and living nearby. It would mean that they had to see their hated daughter regularly, so the neighbours would talk. I'm sure most of the neighbours would have nothing against an arranged marriage but, god forbid, if I fell in love and my parents refused to let me marry the man of my dreams they would have something to say about it. I wished I was too young to be thinking about getting married, but that was just the way my world worked. I sat on a chair on the other side of the room to Kyle and sighed. My vision blurred as I imagined the future that my parents would chose for me – it was not enough that they had ruined my childhood, that I had spent so many years believing I deserved it all, but they had to spoil my future too. I might live until I am eighty, another sixty five years, and how I was going to put up with the controlling maniacs I call my parents I did not know.
"What on earth are you doing?" the quiet voice of my mother hissed. She placed an arm on my back and a hand on my arm, guiding me to the door. It was a reassuring, motherly gesture to the spectators but for me, with the woman's nails digging into my arm, it was a reminder that every kind thing, every word and every movement, was just an act. My life was an act. I bit back a sob, reminding myself that I followed my parents rules, especially when they were around, and when we were in public I let everyone know how happy and loved I was.
"Do you deliberately set out to embarrass your father and I, child?" My mother questioned, her voice cold and harsh. "Do wish to trawl the family name through the dirt? Or do you want things to change? They will not change, child. No matter how much you try to ruin the family you will not succeed, because, though you will always be the only child of the Lawrence family, you will marry well and give us the grandson which we deserve. You will always be under our control." My mother slapped me across the face whenever she saw fit during her little speech. I just stood there, taking the harsh words and the blows – I didn't want to get more than I had already received. "Clean the china and don't ruin that dress. I would hate for you to be in any more trouble." Her tone was the one which she used for the servants and what she said sent shivers down my spine but, nonetheless, I did as she said. For then, at least, my joy over friendship was long gone and all I had left was to do as I was told and hope I would find something new to let me be happy. After about an hour I was joined by a maid who merely raised her eyebrow at the hand imprints on my face before putting her feet up and having a cup of tea. I guessed it was her job to do the washing up but didn't comment as she slacked off. By the time I reached my bedroom I was exhausted and I had barely closed my eyes before I slipped off into the first dreamless sleep I had since I woke up in a hospital bed many nights before.
A/W: I got over writers block to write this bit... only to realise I didn't know how to write the next bit. I know where she's going and how she's going to get there (for the most part) but have no idea what's going to happen in the next chapter. Any ideas would be welcomed! Also should Lord Thorn appear again?
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Total words – 9776
-Elizabeth Drake